The builders next door are hammering away

Another beach house, tall, an ugly grey

Tinted windows reflect the sky

Power tools and the radio in the morning light

And I know the quiet will return again

And I know the owners will be here only two weeks of the year

Two weeks of the year

December getting stoned and wandering ‘round

Like children on a Friday night in this sleepy town

Our house with its solitary glow

Empty houses all around neighbours that just come and go

And I know the quiet is a friend

And I know the owners will be here making noise at the winter’s end

Noise at the winter’s end

Everybody wants their block of land

Something in the city, something by the seaside

One day we’ll be asked to move along

Nothing lasts forever unless you put it in a song

And I know we’ll be priced out of the view

But there’s something to be said for

Excitement of the new

The joy of somewhere new